This is Aunt Tossa McGurk. She's on her way down for Yuletide. I've written a poem about her, so you'll know when you read it why Aunt Vom is in seventh heaven, and Aunt Mary Jaffa is in hiding in the Pennines.
Folly is totally oblivious to the dangers of this woman, so I've encouraged her to sit next to her at the dinner table.
She is firmly rooted in the Scottish branch of our family tree, and a direct descendant of Old Fintan McGribble, who lived alone on Benbecula studying cheese. Nobody liked him.
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.
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It's almost Yule, the tree is dressed,
Aunt Tossa McGurk's on her way.
Down from Ecclefechan she comes
On a ravening-hoard driven sleigh.
A champion at throwing cabers she is,
She's won every trophy in town.
She eats haggis with thorns for breakfast,
And her favourite sporran is brown.
She'll greet us all with the classic shout, of
'Alreet, there, by the wee!'
Her affections are shown with a headbutt -
Considered polite in Loch Pee.
Tossa McGurk is the bravest,
Scaring invaders away with her breath.
By shouting - a blast of rancid wind
Will put any army to death.
Defeating marauders she triumphs,
Booting them all off her land.
The stench from her braided armpits,
Was more than her enemy could stand.
Her band of Ecclefeckineejits are feared,
All wooden eyes and stone teeth.
They're reknowned for toughness and being well hard,
As they wear no socks or shoes on the heath.
Their hobbies are charging and battle,
They indulge in themselves in great fights,
Folly once spent months in hospital,
After poisoning from one of her bites.
So she's coming for Yuletide this year,
And she'll stay in the attic with Aunt Vom.
She's bringing a broadsword, a claymore, a mace,
And more than likely - a Bomb.
But I'll make her feel at home this year,
With polite chat about her hedgehog farm.
But if she offers me a cracker to pull, I'll decline,
Or I'll lose my right arm.
(Here's wishing all my blog friends a wonderful Yuletide, and I'll raise a glass to all as we celebrate with all our loved ones. Including the Folly's and the Aunt Bench's of this world!)
Lovely to hear from you again Auntie - I started laughing as soon as notice of your post popped up in my sidebar. Love the braided armpits!!
ReplyDeleteEven the word verification sounded vaguely Scottish - 'mocalen'.
ReplyDeleteHappy Hogswatch, venerable crone! Let us know when Aunt Tossa goes home and I'll get some of the lads around to fix up your furniture. Wally McCohen's a dab hand at getting teeth marks out of vintage commodes. Worth knowing, I think.
ReplyDeleteMost definitely, she's a absolute bitch to control when she's been at the lamp oil....
ReplyDeleteI always KNEW I was adopted!! This woman has BRAIDED ARMPITS!! MUMMY!!!
ReplyDeleteYes, why don't more women have braided armpits?
ReplyDeleteI think this is your best poem ever, Auntie, I loves it!
What, pray tell, is an Ecclefeckineejit? Are they eejits from Eccles? And Tossa is such a lovely name I too have an Aunt from Scotland, Tossa McCaber, maybe they've met?
I apologize that las years Turkey arrived rotten in the post, so this year I've sent it alive and walking with a sat nav, despite the snow it should still be with you by the 23rd.
Yuletide gramudgeonlies to you and yours, dear auntie, love nephew.
Hey great poem - I'll soon return to writing funny a-b-c-b rhymers coz I love em best. I wrote a couple myself and you liked one of them!
ReplyDeleteWeev, we never told you as we thought we'd all wait until you're 50. Sorry to blurt it out in a rhyme, but you know...shit happens. Hugs x
ReplyDeleteFeck, the Ecclefechaneejits are from Ecclefechan, a marauding bunch of shrieking, stout-drinking, pie-flinging nutters. They rock. And thanks for the turkey, I'll look forward to it. Love to Tossa McCaber! Aunt x
Rhett, I will look forward to your funnies, with great binnicombobulaties. And perhaps twice, if you're lucky!